Silence of the Music
by PrincessTeutonicKnight
Summary: One year after Anschluss with Germany, Roderich Edelstein finds that he gets more than he asked for. He is dragged into the realm of reality and he cannot turn his back on it. Meanwhile, Switzerland is under a lot of stress due to the sheer amount of refugees coming for safety, including a little white haired Austrian boy. Most characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.
1. Prologue: Aftermath

_September 1st 1946. The Opera House. Budapest, Hungary._

Elizaveta sat in her seat at the conference. She had all these mixed feelings in her gut. She knew this conference was going to end in a fight before it had even begun. She could just tell. She knew that this conference would consist of everyone in Europe, Asia and America arguing over recent events and everyone not involved would be stuck in the middle. It would be madness. No change there then. She sighed and watched as, one by one, each nation entered. Neither speaking to each other.

An hour later, Three fights had already erupted. Germany hadn't even arrived yet. Taiwan was standing up for Japan. America was yelling back.

"Dude! I told you! It was totally an accident! I was aiming for the Gobi Desert!" Was his argument.

Arthur was throttling Francis, as usual. They were fighting over who truly won the war. Ivan was, as usual, sitting watching the chaos unfold with plenty of other nations.

The whole room went silent as the doors opened. Gilbert Beilschmidt entered. He sat down in his seat. There were dark circles under his eyes. He looked almost dead. Antonio looked at him with concern.

"Are you ok, mi amigo?" The Spaniard asked.

"Ja! Ja! Roddy just kept me awake most of the night." The Prussian nation replied. This confused the Spaniard. Before he could even utter a '¿Qué?', Ludwig arrived pushing a very unhealthy looking Roderich Edelstein. Ludwig had the same kind of ghostly look in his eyes. All eyes were on them. Ludwig wheeled Roderich to the table and then took his seat by his older brother. All eyes were on the German before people were bombing him with questions and comments.

"Why did you do it?"

"They were innocent people!"

"Did you feel anything?!"

"Perhaps you should be dissolved."

"Enough!" All eyes were no longer on Ludwig, but on the smaller, handicapped Austrian. "Can we not discuss this kind of things? Please?!" His eyes were wide. Nobody really knew what kind of emotion he was showing, but it was a dark and unpleasant one. Then, he went into a massive coughing fit. Elizaveta continued to back up his point.

"He's right. I know it was a bad thing that happened. However, there are other issues that need to be solved. Besides, who hasn't had a bad boss?" She pointed at Arthur. "Remember your queen who burnt Protestants? What was her name? Mary?" The English nation didn't retaliate. She had a point. "And you!" She pointed to Alfred. "Care to explain your ripping people from their homes and selling of them for labour?" The American went bright red and fell silent.

The rest of the meeting went pretty without a hitch. Only a few minor disputes over stupid things, like food and ports. Surprisingly, no huge fights erupted. Nobody mentioned the 'Final Solution' at all. That would have to be discussed at a later date. Only four people remained in the meeting room. Gilbert was asleep in his seat. He was snoring louder than a whale. Ludwig was clearing up. Elizaveta was chatting to Roderich. Small talk. She tried asking about the wheelchair. He merely replied with that he'd rather they didn't speak of it. Or he'd change the subject to something like the weather. Ludwig then hit Gilbert on the head with a newspaper. The Prussian sat up.

"I wasn't asleep! I was just making you all believe that I was!" He grinned. His German brother looked at him.

"Of course you were. That's why you have left a puddle on the table." Ludwig proceeded to wipe the drool off of the table connected to the albino's face.

When Ludwig, Gilbert and Roderich arrived at their hotel, Ludwig had to rush out to get some milk and eggs. This left Gilbert alone with Roderich. It was really awkward. Roderich was sitting in silence, staring at the piano with desire, and Gilbert was prattling on the phone. Most likely to the Frenchman and the Spaniard. He did this for three hours at least, if not more. When the Prussian eventually got off of the phone, he sat in front of the aristocrat.

"Sup!" He beamed, contrasting Roderich's sour expression. The Austrian stared at him for a moment before averting his eyes.

"Come on! We have to talk about it. We don't have to necessarily talk about that but we have to talk about it at some point!" Gilbert said. "Fine. But you gotta talk to someone. Anyone. Even that homeless guy round the corner! He's usually too drunk to care!" The albino let out a heavy sigh. "Fine." He got up. "Keeping it in won't solve your problems! It just make makes you even more unawesome!" He got up. "Anyhows! I'm gonna go and get a drink with Toni and Francy!" He then proceeded to run out of the room. The phone began to ring. Roderich sat there for a moment and let it ring, before then deciding to answer and see who was calling.

"Hallo?" Roderich answered cautiously. He listened to the person on the other end. "Nein. I'm not ready to talk about it." He slammed the phone down, wincing slightly at his bruised hands. Why did people feel like it was necessary to question him? He would never understand. He wheeled himself up to the piano, lifted up the cover and gently pressed one of the keys. It gave of a soft, high pitched sound. He knew that he couldn't play like this. There was no use in trying. He sighed and wheeled himself away. He proceeded to distract himself with a book. Grimm's fairy tales. Childish, but it should work. He opened the book and let out a yelp as he dropped it to the ground. A shard of glass the size of a tablespoon had pierced his skin and splintered out in all kinds of directions. He shut his eyes and tried not to think about the horrifying sight of his hand. He slowly began to feel himself drifting away.


	2. Chapter One: Albrechtsberger and Ashes

_Vienna, September 1939. Edelstein Manor_

The soft melody of the piano was playing out. The soft melody filling the entire house. The smell of freshly baked chocolate cake accompanied it, complimenting every note. Roderich sat at his Steinway eighteenth century grand piano. His eyes were closed, his face relaxed. He felt it right down into his core. Music would help him through the war. The soft melody was his escape, his salvation if you will. He was just about to finish the symphony when he was distracted.

A single rock came flying through the window, leaving glass shards in it's wake, and landed on the floor with a thud. Roderich turned to look at the rock. It was round and almost metallic. It began to make a noise, like the sizzle when water lands on a very hot metal. As it hissed violently, it was giving off some kind of steam that made the aristocrat cough and splutter. All of a sudden, the door burst open and hundreds of men burst in, weapons in hand. They were yelling "Jude!" at him. He knew that he had to leave, so he staggered to the door. Before he could, he felt something hard hit his back and he was pushed to the ground.

Roderich watched in horror as his life was stolen away. The men carried all of the aristocrat's possessions. He was then dragged out and thrown onto the lawn. The Austrian was held down and forced to watch as his Stradivarius was shot to pieces. His Steinway was smashed. Everything beyond repair. He was then dragged away by Mariazell. If there was anything he had learnt from his training sessions as a child, it was that the enemy should never see how you're truly feeling. Any signs of weakness, the enemy will use it to their advantage. All he had to make sure was that he didn't crack. That could be fatal. He also knew that trying to resist could be fatal. He'd heard about the Gestapo and the S.S. He knew that they weren't exactly kind and gentle in their methods. Luckily for him, he hit his head on a lamppost, which knocked him out.

A small child watched as this man was dragged away. He watched the remaining men set fire to the large mansion. The tears welled up in the small boy's eyes. His paints were in there. His artwork was in there. His whole life. burnt to ashes. The young boy caught the eye of one of the men, who came over.

"Sie! Wie heißt du?!" The soldier barked. The young boy panicked and lied.

"Leopold Beilschmidt." He looked up at him. The soldier sighed.

"You really shouldn't be out here." He pointed to the Volkswagen. "I'll take you home. Wait in there." The small boy nodded and crossed over. He stopped and picked up a half scorched, red leather sketchbook. He turned to the soldier, asking if he could take it. The soldier nodded.

"It's not like the owner will use it anymore. As you like art so much, how would you like to have some of the other things. There are pencils, paints, pastels. You name it." He sighed and muttered, "He probably stole them anyway." Leopold silently picked up all of his old things and carried them into the Volkswagen. He sat in the front seat and opened his sketchbook. He opened it to a fresh page, took a pencil and began to sketch the scene in front of him. The place he once called his home, burning. However, it wasn't passion. "It was hatred." Leopold thought to himself. "This is art." He silently continued his train of thought. He was so deep in thought, that when the soldier opened the door, he screamed.

"IT'S ART! IT'S ALL ART!" This random outburst confused the soldier, who stood there bewildered at this strange child. Leopold gathered all of the art supplies, hopped out the vehicle and waved.

"I am off to make a masterpiece. So long!" He said. Before the soldier could object or anything, The young child was off.

Leopold ran until he was out of breath. He sat by a river. Across the river was the house, still in flames. He dipped one of the paintbrushes in the river. He began to paint. Everything faded away. Only the painting mattered. Like music is for Roderich, art is Leopold's escape.

When he finished the picture, he washed the brushes. He splattered a spare sheet of paper with the remains of the red paint. He looked at it very carefully before he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"That's a complex painting. It would go well with Albrechtsberger's Divertimento concerto." The young boy turned around to see the aristocrat standing behind him. He immediately got up and hugged him.

"You have to go! Get out of here! Come with me! We can go to Switzerland! He's taking in refugees! It'll be alright!" The young artistic nation pleading with him. Roderich knew that he should have said yes. However, his pride stopped him. After all the history, he knew that he couldn't just ask for help from Vash. It would be like stepping into a lion's cage after you've aggravated it. Only the lion would have a shotgun. Leopold looked ahead. Men were running towards him. Roderich gathered the art supplies and handed them to him.

"Go! Tell Vash what has happened! Tell Lili! Bitte!" Roderich looked at him. His face was full of some form of complicated. He seemed at peace. Like he was going to die. He was ready.

"Run, you fool! Go on! Your legs work fine! Use them!" The young boy nodded and began to run. He looked behind him. Roderich was lying on the floor. Soldiers were kicking him and hitting him with their rifles. He continued to run. This time, he didn't look back. He ran until he couldn't run any more. Even then, he walked.

The day melted away and the cold, dark night was upon him. A harsh wind bit Leopold but he didn't mind. It kept him awake. When he finally arrived at the Swiss border, he screamed as he saw what was in front of him. A harsh face with cropped blonde hair. His green eyes were cold and angry. He was wearing a pair of baby pink pyjamas and military boots. On his shoulders was a green and white military coat. In his hands, a shotgun sat nicely in his hands. It was pointed at the young boy. Leopold fell to his knees and began to cry. His sobs made him shake. His tears began to fall faster and faster. He'd had enough of this stupid war. The blonde man stared at him. His eyes widened. He looked to the child and what he held clutched in his grip. The sketchbook and equipment. Art. The man slowly lowered his rifle and went as close to Leopold as possible without crossing the Swiss border.

"I- I- I couldn't save him!" He sobbed into the ground. The man's expression was soft. He understood.

"Jude.. Right?" The man asked. Leopold shook his head.

"T-t-they thought we were. He told me to come here and ask for Basch. He'd keep me safe." He sniffled

"Well, it's a good thing you found him." The man sighed. "I guess that you had better come in." He said as he held out his hand. Leopold stared at it before he took it and went inside.

* * *

Translations:

Sie! Wie heißt du?! : Hey! What is your name?!


	3. Chapter Two: Historical Embers

Leopold sat on the sofa of the Zwingli residence. A cup of tea was sat at the table, steaming. Basch was sat opposite him.

"Are you going to tell me anything else?" He asked, watching the young boy. From him, Basch knew a few things. 1. People were being taken away. They were still somewhere on the planet. 2. This kid was lucky to escape. 4. Most likely, whoever the boy couldn't save, was dead. However, he could only try. For the sake of this kid.

"Who couldn't you save?" Basch continued. The boy stared at him, The light from the windows brought out his eyes. Violet. Basch's eyes widened, 'No. It can't be' he thought to himself 'It was impossible.' Unfortunately, Basch's thoughts were confirmed.

"His name was Roderich. They torched our house. Stole everything. He was like a Vater to me." The young boy felt himself tearing up. He opened up the sketchbook and turned to the second page. Basch looked. That was the Austrian nation's house alright.. Leopold turned to the next page. A gasp escaped the Swiss nation. It was the same picture, only different. It was all in flames. The flames mingled together, the blacks and greys infused into it gave off a dark and tragic aura. A figure was kneeling on the floor. Around him, other figures stood. Basch looked away. 'Get it together! You don't care about the reckless idiot! It's probably his own that he's got himself into this mess. I must stay neutral! I will stay neutral! You don't care about him! You don't! So why am I having to tell myself this. Stop it this instance! You don't care!' Basch told himself. He couldn't believe he was having this argument.

Lili got out of bed and went into the kitchen. She put the kettle on to boil and began to make a cup of tea. Refugees were coming in left, right and centre. They came from Poland, Germany and Austria. They all looked the same. Poor, starving and unclean. She couldn't believe that they were all different classes. She dedicated her time finding them places to live until the war was over. She visited them, kept them company and helped look after the children who have lost their parents and are now living with other refugees. It tired her out. She felt that she had to. She knew how it felt to be alone, sure that death was going to come. She also knew how good it felt to have someone show some kindness. To be taken in and cared for. Lili knew those feelings all too well. She took the cup of tea into the living room where she saw a young boy. He had violet eyes, long white hair and a cowlick. he was chewing on a pencil. A sketchbook was on his lap and turned to a blank page.

"Stay there." He told her. He was staring very intensely. She was going to ask why. He took the pencil out of his mouth and began to sketch. Taking care with each line. She made sure not to move.

 _Unknown Location._

Roderich stood in a line among many other men. German soldiers were going up and down the line, asking for their professions and putting them aside. There were five seamstresses. Two cooks. A blacksmith and too many builders. One of the men stood before Roderich. He was bulky, with blonde, spiked up hair and sea blue eyes.

"State your profession." He said. His voice had an edge to it, like a serrated knife. Roderich didn't hesitate.

"I am a musician." He said. He knew he couldn't say that he was Austria. That would sound absolutely preposterous. However, this reaction wasn't much better. Laughter erupted among all of the soldiers. He knew he should have said something else.

"In my spare time, I bake. I can make very good cake." He said. He expected them to be roaring with laughter now. Only a few did. They were swiftly silenced by the other man.

"You bake? Well?" He asked. Roderich nodded. "So if I gave you the ingredients, you could bake me a cake?" He continued. Roderich nodded. "Alright. Join the cooks. You can work in the kitchen." He pointed to a man and a woman huddled together. The man had no hair. He had hazel eyes. The woman had thick black hair and dark eyes to match. Roderich walked over to them.

Roderich was utterly humiliated. His clothes were stolen and now he had to wear these hideous striped things. His hair was gone. He wondered how long before Mariazell grew back. His glasses were gone. The cake was in the oven. Baking usually helped him to relax and calmed his nerves but this time, it was only putting him under stress. Then, a strange smell began to creep up his nose. It smelt like something familiar. Was that… Paprika? Possibly. However, it gave him no comfort. It reminded him of where he wasn't. Nonetheless, he followed the scent. It was the man and the woman. They were cooking something in a pot. Roderich made his way up to them.

"What's that?" He asked, motioning to the pot. The woman turned to face him. A fresh cut was on her cheekbone. It was surrounded by purple skin. It didn't phase him. He'd been to wars. As a child, he spent six months with a rotting corpse. That was in his very early days of being a nation. He was kidnapped. He still wasn't sure who by.

"We're not sure." She replied. "There's not much we can work with." She said. The man was staring at Roderich.

"How do we know that we can trust you?" He asked. "I mean, you could be anyone. We should get to know each other properly." The ex-aristocrat knew that he was right. They were sharing living space when they didn't even know his name. Roderich had come to the decision that he was to lie. He was going to tell them his name, where he comes from and maybe about his family.

"I'll go first." The man said. He took in a deep breath. "My name is Levi Blumstein." He motioned to the woman. "This is my sister, Ariel. We're Jewish. I am a cook. We used to own a little coffee shop in Vienna. It wasn't much but the view was amazing. We used to go for walks. We passed this large house. Classical music used to play. Sometimes, you could smell cake. If only we knew who lives there. We were going to ask, but then our curfew was set, and we didn't go out for walks out of fear. We thought we would die." He said. The ex-aristocrat was listening intensely. They listened to his music. They lived in his hometown. They admired him. They wanted to meet him. He knew that he couldn't lie to them.

"My name is Roderich Edelstein. I represent the nation of Austria. They think that I'm Jewish. I'm not. I lived in my home in Vienna. Until they came, took everything. Destroyed my instruments on my lawn. Burnt my house down and took me away. I managed to escape to see my son. I told him to run. I told him to go to Switzerland. He would take care of him." He looked at him and took out one of his blue contact lenses to reveal a pale violet eye. "I wear these to blend in." He put it back in. "I feel every one of my people's pain. They are in agony right now. I fear that I won't have a country after the war." Levi stood there, astounded by all of this. The siblings weren't sure whether they should believe him or not.

"Do you have any stories? From the past?" Ariel asked. This was the only way to know. To hear some of the history. Roderich sat down.

"What do you want to hear?" He asked. "I have many stories. My childhood friendship with Switzerland. The time I went to war with Prussia over Silesia. Or perhaps you were looking more for the time Prussia decided to clean my house while I slept. He stole all of my underwear." Levi couldn't help but smile at the last one.

"We'll leave the underwear story for later. Tell us about Switzerland. What is she like?" Levi asked. Roderich smiled.

"I was created to be a fighting machine. I guess you could say that I was a failure. Anyway, whenever I was sent out to fight, multiple countries would kick my ass. Everyone was afraid of the Ottoman Empire. Or Turkey. Luckily, I was never sent to attack him. I was sent out to attack Hungary. She is a very strong woman. Back then, everyone thought that she was a boy. Whenever I used to get hurt, Switzerland came to pick up the pieces. He used to patch me up. I often stayed the night at his." He smiled as he remembered the past. However, this also made him homesick. "But it wasn't to last. We both got new bosses. He took in a lovely young nation and now they prefer to stay out of everyone's businesses." He told them.

"You said that your name is Roderich. Does every nation have their own name?" Ariel asked. "What are their names?" She was curious. Roderich nodded.

"We all have our own human names. Some share their last names. Basch Zwingli is better known as Switzerland. His sister, Lili Zwingli is better known as The Principality of Liechtenstein. She's what is called a microstate. They often are children. Micronations are also often children. They are little bits of land that have decided on independence. They don't have much land. Nor a large population." He said. He spent most of the afternoon telling stories. He made the siblings smile, laugh and cry. It's a shame that it wasn't going to last.


	4. Chapter Three: Connecting Minds

Roderich sat up, gasping for air. It was dark. His lungs screaming out for air, his whole body aching. He became suddenly aware of where he was, what he was sitting on. It was hard. Solid. However brittle, it could break at any moment. The Austrian got up and slowly made his way off of whatever he was on top of. He turned around to see. When he did, he let out a little scream. Dead bodies. He had been on corpses. 'That's right.' He thought to himself. The shower. At least that's what they were told. Roderich remembered it so well. Everyone was fighting to find an exit. Fighting for air. Some said prayers, whilst others said their goodbyes. Roderich looked at the pile. A lot of people he didn't recognise. He jumped when he heard a very loud bark and became suddenly aware that he was naked. He turned around. A German Shepard was hurtling towards him. He hoped that it was a dream He shut his eyes as the hound tackled Roderich to the ground, baring it's teeth and leaving drool everywhere. He gave out a throaty cry when he felt it sink it's canine teeth into his neck. That was the last thing he remembered.

The aristocrat opened his eyes. He was lying in bed. It was a familiar one. He was home. He breathed a sigh of relief. It _was_ just a dream after all. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He felt refreshed. He looked over. His eyes widened when he saw who was stood in the doorway. Aldrich Beilschmidt. The Germanic ancient was staring at the Austrian.

"Vater? What are you doing here?" Roderich asked, eyeing the old nation.

"I came for you." He said. His blue eyes piercing Roderich like icicles. "Are you not glad to see me?" Roderich was trembling. He was giving him the same look that the Austrian used to get each time he lost a battle.

"Ja. Ja. I'm glad but I thought you hated me. For being weak." He said, looking down.

"You are weak. You are a girl." Aldrich sighed as he perched on the bed. "Nethertheless, you are my girl. I am proud of you." Roderich's head snapped up. He was… Proud of him? Germania, the cold hearted nation was proud of him? The aristocrat, who usually didn't do any kind of physical affection, gave his father a long awaited hug. The old man, who also didn't really do this kind of thing, awkwardly wrapped his arms around him. Roderich didn't often cry. He usually kept his composure, often hiding behind a poker face. However, this was an exception. Aldrich rocked him back and forth, whispering words of comfort. It was unusual. Roderich noted that mentally but didn't want to say anything. Then, he heard the man say the weirdest thing.

"Awake and unafraid. Asleep or dead?" He whispered into his ear, before beginning to fade. His voice was the first to go.

"Vater!" Roderich screamed. Suddenly, he felt searing pain all over his body. He was on fire. Contrariwise, he saw no flames. Nor could he smell burning flesh. He heard his father's voice return as the rest of him vanish, speaking his name.

"Roderich. Roderich. Roderich. Roderich." The aristocrat was left alone, Aldrich's voice still clear in his pounding head.

"Roderich. Roderich. Roderich. Roderich." It transformed. Instead of Aldrich's voice calling his own name, it was someone familiar.

"Basch. Basch. Basch. Basch. Basch."

Basch gasped and sat up from his bed, clutching his chest. It was throbbing. His lungs and throat were burning. It felt like someone had grabbed his throat and squeezed hard, crushing his trachea. However, he could breath perfectly fine. He saw a figure sat on the end of his bed. It was to big to be Lili's or the other child. What was his name? Lea? Something like that. He looked around frantically. Reaching under his bed, he pulled out a loaded K31 Schmidt-Rubin and pointed it at the intruder. How did he get in? Who was he? Why was he here? Did he really watch him sleep? Basch was confused and a little creeped out. The figure didn't even flinch at the rifle pointed at him. 'What is wrong with this creep?' Basch thought to himself. 'What if it's Lili's real father? Has he come to come and collect her after all these years? I shan't let him take her away from me! Unless she wants to go..' The figure began to speak. The accent was obviously German.

"You took your time. I called your name too many times to count." The figure was not happy. Basch let out an exasperated sigh.

"I told the idiot brothers. I wanted no part in this. I always have been neutral. That's the way I will stay. Nothing will convince me otherwise." The figure got up and moved towards him and sat beside him. His cold blue eyes pierced Basch's green eyes, looking deep into his soul.

"That's no way to greet your Vater. Is it?" Aldrich Beilschmidt patted the Swiss nation's head. "However, I must congratulate you on your defense mechanism. Well done." Basch slowly began to lower the gun, but not his guard.

"Why are you here?" He asked, glaring at his father.

"You tell me. You were the one calling me." Aldrich sighed. "My guess is that you miss Roderich and want me to help… Would I be correct?" He asked, eying him with interest.

"N-no!" Basch stammered. "I would never-! I don't care about him! He can- He can die for all I care!" He yelled, his face sporting a very deep flush. Aldrich let out a heavy sigh.

"Well, so I haven't had a completely wasted trip, Roderich is alive by the way, How is your adopted sister?" He asked. Everything about him screamed boredom.

"She's fine." He said, eyeing his father with hatred, almost willing him to leave. Aldrich, however, had other plans.

"She must be getting to that age. I hope you're keeping a close eye on her." He said, staring into Basch's eyes. Although Basch did fear the day she came home with a boy, he attempted to hide his true feelings with his usual 'I don't care' attitude. Aldrich was not easily fooled.

"You're about as convincing as a Roman saying that he's wearing underwear." He sighed, getting up. "However, you're only lying to yourself." He said. "I'll see you sometime in the future." He walked up to the door. "Oh and Basch? Pink is not your colour." With that as the last words, Aldrich Beilschmidt had disappeared.

Basch Zwingli woke up in a sweat. Lili was sat at the foot of the bed looking at him with concern.

"You were calling out for Roderich, crying even." She quietly informed him. "Are you alright?" She asked, wiping his face with a cool damp cloth.

Roderich Edelstein woke up in a sweat, Ariel was sat by his side, eyeing him with concern.

"You were calling out for help." She told him. "You were crying. I felt awful." She said before wiping his face with a warm, bone dry cloth. Roderich looked around at the poorly lit room and came to the conclusion that it was night time.

"Where's Levi?" He asked, looking at Ariel.

"He was taken this morning. I think we both know that he's not coming back." She said, looking down. "It's just us two now." She sighed, a single tear trickled down her cheek. Roderich felt a tightening in his chest. Another one of his people. All because he didn't stand up to the Nazis and accepted the Anschluss.


	5. Chapter Four: Sweet Dreams

Roderich sat up, gasping for air. It was dark. His lungs screaming out for air, his whole body aching. He became suddenly aware of where he was, what he was sitting on. It was hard. Solid. However brittle, it could break at any moment. The Austrian got up and slowly made his way off of whatever he was on top of. He turned around to see. When he did, he let out a little scream. Dead bodies. He had been on corpses. 'That's right.' He thought to himself. The shower. At least that's what they were told. Roderich remembered it so well. Everyone was fighting to find an exit. Fighting for air. Some said prayers, whilst others said their goodbyes. Roderich looked at the pile. A lot of people he didn't recognise. He jumped when he heard a very loud bark and became suddenly aware that he was naked. He turned around. A German Shepard was hurtling towards him. He hoped that it was a dream He shut his eyes as the hound tackled Roderich to the ground, baring it's teeth and leaving drool everywhere. He gave out a throaty cry when he felt it sink it's canine teeth into his neck. That was the last thing he remembered.

The aristocrat opened his eyes. He was lying in bed. It was a familiar one. He was home. He breathed a sigh of relief. It _was_ just a dream after all. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He felt refreshed. He looked over. His eyes widened when he saw who was stood in the doorway. Aldrich Beilschmidt. The Germanic ancient was staring at the Austrian.

"Vater? What are you doing here?" Roderich asked, eyeing the old nation.

"I came for you." He said. His blue eyes piercing Roderich like icicles. "Are you not glad to see me?" Roderich was trembling. He was giving him the same look that the Austrian used to get each time he lost a battle.

"Ja. Ja. I'm glad but I thought you hated me. For being weak." He said, looking down.

"You are weak. You are a girl." Aldrich sighed as he perched on the bed. "Nethertheless, you are my girl. I am proud of you." Roderich's head snapped up. He was… Proud of him? Germania, the cold hearted nation was proud of him? The aristocrat, who usually didn't do any kind of physical affection, gave his father a long awaited hug. The old man, who also didn't really do this kind of thing, awkwardly wrapped his arms around him. Roderich didn't often cry. He usually kept his composure, often hiding behind a poker face. However, this was an exception. Aldrich rocked him back and forth, whispering words of comfort. It was unusual. Roderich noted that mentally but didn't want to say anything. Then, he heard the man say the weirdest thing.

"Awake and unafraid. Asleep or dead?" He whispered into his ear, before beginning to fade. His voice was the first to go.

"Vater!" Roderich screamed. Suddenly, he felt searing pain all over his body. He was on fire. Contrariwise, he saw no flames. Nor could he smell burning flesh. He heard his father's voice return as the rest of him vanish, speaking his name.

"Roderich. Roderich. Roderich. Roderich." The aristocrat was left alone, Aldrich's voice still clear in his pounding head.

"Roderich. Roderich. Roderich. Roderich." It transformed. Instead of Aldrich's voice calling his own name, it was someone familiar.

"Basch. Basch. Basch. Basch. Basch."

Basch gasped and sat up from his bed, clutching his chest. It was throbbing. His lungs and throat were burning. It felt like someone had grabbed his throat and squeezed hard, crushing his trachea. However, he could breath perfectly fine. He saw a figure sat on the end of his bed. It was to big to be Lili's or the other child. What was his name? Lea? Something like that. He looked around frantically. Reaching under his bed, he pulled out a loaded K31 Schmidt-Rubin and pointed it at the intruder. How did he get in? Who was he? Why was he here? Did he really watch him sleep? Basch was confused and a little creeped out. The figure didn't even flinch at the rifle pointed at him. 'What is wrong with this creep?' Basch thought to himself. 'What if it's Lili's real father? Has he come to come and collect her after all these years? I shan't let him take her away from me! Unless she wants to go..' The figure began to speak. The accent was obviously German.

"You took your time. I called your name too many times to count." The figure was not happy. Basch let out an exasperated sigh.

"I told the idiot brothers. I wanted no part in this. I always have been neutral. That's the way I will stay. Nothing will convince me otherwise." The figure got up and moved towards him and sat beside him. His cold blue eyes pierced Basch's green eyes, looking deep into his soul.

"That's no way to greet your Vater. Is it?" Aldrich Beilschmidt patted the Swiss nation's head. "However, I must congratulate you on your defense mechanism. Well done." Basch slowly began to lower the gun, but not his guard.

"Why are you here?" He asked, glaring at his father.

"You tell me. You were the one calling me." Aldrich sighed. "My guess is that you miss Roderich and want me to help… Would I be correct?" He asked, eying him with interest.

"N-no!" Basch stammered. "I would never-! I don't care about him! He can- He can die for all I care!" He yelled, his face sporting a very deep flush. Aldrich let out a heavy sigh.

"Well, so I haven't had a completely wasted trip, Roderich is alive by the way, How is your adopted sister?" He asked. Everything about him screamed boredom.

"She's fine." He said, eyeing his father with hatred, almost willing him to leave. Aldrich, however, had other plans.

"She must be getting to that age. I hope you're keeping a close eye on her." He said, staring into Basch's eyes. Although Basch did fear the day she came home with a boy, he attempted to hide his true feelings with his usual 'I don't care' attitude. Aldrich was not easily fooled.

"You're about as convincing as a Roman saying that he's wearing underwear." He sighed, getting up. "However, you're only lying to yourself." He said. "I'll see you sometime in the future." He walked up to the door. "Oh and Basch? Pink is not your colour." With that as the last words, Aldrich Beilschmidt had disappeared.

Basch Zwingli woke up in a sweat. Lili was sat at the foot of the bed looking at him with concern.

"You were calling out for Roderich, crying even." She quietly informed him. "Are you alright?" She asked, wiping his face with a cool damp cloth.

Roderich Edelstein woke up in a sweat, Ariel was sat by his side, eyeing him with concern.

"You were calling out for help." She told him. "You were crying. I felt awful." She said before wiping his face with a warm, bone dry cloth. Roderich looked around at the poorly lit room and came to the conclusion that it was night time.

"Where's Levi?" He asked, looking at Ariel.

"He was taken this morning. I think we both know that he's not coming back." She said, looking down. "It's just us two now." She sighed, a single tear trickled down her cheek. Roderich felt a tightening in his chest. Another one of his people. All because he didn't stand up to the Nazis and accepted the Anschluss.


	6. Chapter Five: Some Demons Never Die

_Beilschmidt House, October 1940_

Ludwig Beilschmidt was getting concerned. Gilbert had not returned home yet. He hoped that he's not got himself into trouble. It wasn't that he didn't trust his older brother, he just worried. A lot. Especially at a time like this. A time of war. The year was 1940. The war was more than well under way and it was all hands on deck, all systems go. Ludwig hadn't heard from Roderich for a while. He was probably giving him the silence treatment. To be honest, Ludwig didn't blame him. The Anschluss was a little forced. The Austrian just needed time and space, even if it was the entire war. The entire war. Ludwig sighed. He had mixed feelings about this war. He wasn't so sure if he could win again. Sure, they're stronger and have been prepared for a while. Seeing the resentment in Roderich's eyes as the Anschluss took place. Observing the sadness in Feliks' as Poland was taken over. Not to mention Miles and Lydia's heartbreak when Czechoslovakia was stolen. Especially after Ludwig watched the two and their excitement in 1918 after gaining independence from Austria. The same year Elizabeta had asked for a divorce. A year later, they lost the war. It was not a good time for were only a few people. If he had the world, how many people would hate him? He would become alone. This loneliness may make him bitter and then- The german sighed. He was overthinking this.

Gilbert didn't return home until much later. He was strangely sober and rather quiet. Ludwig noted this but decided to not say anything. He was old enough to care for himself. Although, he was intrigued by the change in personality. He had to find out. It was probably some kind of bar fight. Maybe he had been caught fighting and accidentally hit a member of the Gestapo or worse, his boss. Although he wasn't particularly bloody so he thinks he can rule out any illegal business that he's been caught doing.

"Gilbert?" He asked. "Are you alright?" His face staring intensely at the albino. Of course, Gilbert chose this time to force out a grin and even fake a laugh.

"Ja! Ja! Don't worry about me little bro!" He yelled, louder than usual and a little too cheerful. So of course, Ludwig could see right through.

"Liar. What are you hiding?" He asked.

An hour later, Ludwig finally coaxed it out of him. A telegram. It was folded up. Gilbert hadn't read it. It came from Austria. Ludwig sighed. What could he possibly want now? A new piano? True he hadn't heard from the aristocrat in a while, a demand was most certainly overdue. He opened it up and read it.

"Commander L. Beilschmidt,

Trouble at Auschwitz. Come investigate 'The Devil Who Won't Die'. Other than that, all is going to plan. See you soon

Captain G. Schneider"

Ludwig stared at it, rereading over and over. Stunned. 'The Devil'? Could it be? Did they capture Lucifer? How do you deal with Satan? Ludwig sighed. Stake and a Crucifix? Holy Water? Garlic? No, those only work with vampires. He got up.

"Gilbert!" He yelled. "We're going to Auschwitz!" He bellowed, so the Prussian could hear him from wherever he had left the German.

Meanwhile late at night in Switzerland, Basch Zwingli had once again woken up in a cold sweat. This time he didn't scream. Instead, the screaming came from a room across the hall. He got up and went off to investigate.

Leopold Edelstein had had a nightmare. Again. This was a common occurrence. It was hardly surprising. Especially in a time like this, considering the things that had happened. The things he'd seen. It was always the same. Roderich was always being dragged away. He could do nothing. He did nothing. By the time Basch had sluggishly dragged himself into the room, the boy's screaming had ceased. He was sat up in bed, eyes wide and his face could be described as the colour of a blank canvas. His hair was dishevelled and wild. He was afraid. He was terrified, hyperventilating and shaking violently. As soon as he laid eyes on the swissman, who was sporting an interesting choice of silk pyjamas, Leopold ran up and wrapped his arms around Basch's middle. This took the neutral nation by surprise. It wasn't everyday someone who wasn't his sister gave him a hug. In fact, the last person was- He shook his head. He wouldn't think about the Austrian. They were friends once. He didn't care about him. He wouldn't ever care. Not in a million years. For the rest of their life. The young albino was murmuring something. It was in English so it took the tired country a moment to translate.

"Help him please. Get him out of there." Of course, Basch clicked almost instantly. He was talking about Roderich. Of course, who else would the young boy be talking about? It's one of the only things he talks about. That and random artists. Not to mention the odd time Lilli pops up in conversations. However it is mainly artists and Roderich. Basch highly doubted Van Gogh needed help. First off, he was beyond help when he cut off his ear, and not to mention that he's dead.

Basch sat him on the bed and held him close, much like a mother. This is what he did for Lilli whenever a storm hit or an event happened in her country that affected her. He would stroke her hair and tell her soothing things. Basch did exactly that to the young albino boy. However, he was unsure as to how soothing his words were.

"It takes a lot to break him, you know." He whispered. "He's a strong man. Trust me. Hey, at least he'll survive." He sighed. It seemed to work. It even silenced his own subconscious thoughts. However, as soon as he heard Leopold's light snores, the voice in the back of his mind piped up and said one thing:

'You just tell yourself that Basch. Don't get involved. It's only your brother.' It whispered.

"He's my half brother. Besides, you're not real!" Basch muttered under his breath, careful to not wake the small boy. It heard.

'You just keep telling yourself that.' It said, in a rather mocking tone. Then, the voice ceased.

The voice played on Basch's mind all day. The things it said. It was cruel. It was spiteful. It was- Right. Roderich needed help. He needed someone to pick up the pieces. He needed Basch. He never stopped. Roderich would always need someone to help him. However, the swiss nation was torn. Is Roderich worth breaking his neutrality for? I mean, he was allied with Germany. Surely he would stop it before it escalated. Right? Or Hungary. Sure they were divorced and all but she must still care a little bit for him. Basch got up from where he was, made his excuse and took himself to his room. He needed to think about this.

 _Auschwitz, 1940_

Alone. Confined to a room of darkness. Confusion. What was to happen next? All Roderich knew was that he was in pain, cold and that many people have died and there are still plenty more to go. He was barely awake. Barely alive. Surrounded by crimson red blood. He wasn't even sure on who he was. Why he was still alive. He couldn't see anything, yet the images were clear in his head.

 _Roderich was a little boy. He was lying down in the grass, watching the clouds go by. Lying next to him was another young boy. His blonde hair was cut into a bob. Basch Zwingli. Roderich was pointing to a cloud and pointed out that it resembled a pointed wizard's hat. Basch had told him to not be so ridiculous. He had also told him that it was obviously the Swiss Alps. It ended with them both laughing._

'I remember that.' Roderich mused. It was one of the first times the aristocrat met the one soon to be known as 'The Hedgehog Country'. The second, if he recalled correctly. He then thought about how they drifted apart. Basch never truly forgave him for that. It wasn't his fault… Was it?

 _Roderich was now a lot older. He was still fairly young in terms of being a nation. He was looking around. People were happy, celebrating. The year was 1260. Roderich had allied his country with The Kingdom of Bohemia. It was his first official war as The Duchy of Austria. It was also his first victory. Roderich hoped that his Father would be looking down on him and being proud._

He was fighting his wife to be. Although neither of them knew it at the time. It was the first time he had felt like he'd succeeded at something. He'd proven everyone wrong. He wasn't completely useless. Just mostly. He felt a sense of pride.

 _Roderich was sat at the piano, as usual. His wife, Elizabeta, was by his side. She was listening to the melodious tune. The scent of chocolate cake filled the whole house. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining through the window, cloudless sky. The birds were chirping along. It was almost perfect. Yet, something was missing._

'That was the last time I was happy.' Roderich thought to himself. 'It was a few weeks after we had been wed.' He remembered. What happened? War. That was the simple answer. War destroyed everything. Didn't it always?

 _Roderich was in the kitchen. It was near enough ten o'clock on the twenty fourth of June 1914. He was taking a marble cake out of the oven when he heard the shot ring out in his head. A second later, a pain hit him. The sponge cake fell to the floor. The cake tin landing on the floor with a loud clatter. The pain seared in his chest, making him cry out in agony. He fell to his knees clutching his chest. Elizabeta was at his side, faster than you could say 'assassination'._

Roderich remembered the pain of his Archduke being shot. It was nothing compared to the pain he felt now. It never would be. At the time, he thought that he was going to die. He genuinely felt the pain of Franz Ferdinand. He also felt the sorrow that he felt when his wife, Sophie and the unborn child died. It was all a lot of emotions. A lot of emotions and he didn't know how to deal with it. There was anger, sorrow and pain. He wanted revenge. He was willing to sacrifice everything for it.

Then Roderich was returned to the darkness. Everything had gone numb. He was left to his own thoughts. These were all jumbled up. He needed to make sense of them all first. However, every time he tried, another name crops up. Another dead person. At first they were those from his country, it soon expanded into all of them. He heard their screams, their sobs. He felt their pain. Tormented. He tried to cover his ears to block it out. He couldn't. No matter how hard he tried. It was impossible. It burned.

Roderich's memories began to morph into one another. They were all over the place. He wasn't sure how to deal with it all. His life was just one large ball of confusion. Roderich screamed out. It was a blood curdling shriek. In agony. In anguish. He was feeling the pain of a million people give or take. His screeches echoed around the darkened abyss. Bouncing around. Resonating everywhere. Then, nothing. The screams had stopped. It was just silence. Silence and darkness. This only lasted for approximately thirty seconds before Roderich saw a blinding light.


End file.
